The cafeteria lights of Derry Community College were buzzing like wasps, so this is why Jake Epping had taken the job. He thought that if he worked in the basement, no one would see him. No one would know that the scholarship kid was working as a janitor.

Jake's pride was alive. It coiled around his insides and hissed at the thought of someone from school seeing him with his greased-stained apron on. When he got off work, he'd sneak through the parking lot and take a roundabout way back to his dorm. The fall air smelled like dead leaves and Jake's fear of getting caught.

Everything changed on a night like that. Jake had just rounded the corner of the science building when a gunshot cracked through the air. Before he could think, before it made sense, there was pain and then there was pavement.

Time stretched out slowly as molasses as Jake bled out onto the asphalt. Overhead, constellations spun uncaringly. In those last moments before shock gave over to cold death, he thought about who he loved—and who he didn't love enough. He'd never know what it felt like to hold a woman's hand or see his name printed below an associates'. Or maybe God just has a shitty sense of humor.

He expected gates or flames but got endless blank white instead; faith crumbled wet cardboard in shaking hands. If shapeless ghosts are meant to drift through blank canvases for eternity—well, fuck it all then.

Just as despair started licking its lips behind him, a notification pinged in Jake's ghostly mind: "The Store System," it said—a sentence straight out of those weird web novels he used to read during lecture halls & in between meals at dining halls & during life—but every bit of him tingled at possibility: if this is real—if he can really restart…

So with a flick of thought, he shed his old skin. He became Kizaru, that laid-back admiral from the manga he loved. No more hiding. No more cowering. In this life, he'd be the one in control.

The white space wavered and solidified in front of Jake's eyes. So instead of being afraid, he smiled a little. Death was only the beginning.

In Mariner's Haven, a loud port town where everything smelled like salt and sounded like boats banging into each other 24/7, there lived a boy named Borsalino Boromante. The locals knew him as an easygoing kid with an oversized yellow striped hat that bobbed through the streets.

He'd gotten his reputation for being laid-back at such a young age; people would often laugh to see such a carefree child wandering through streets where even rats seemed to move with purpose.

"Hey there, Borsalino!" called Tanaka, an elderly man who was having trouble with a box of fish. "Can you help me?"

The boy's smile grew bigger as he swaggered toward him. "Oh, that looks heavy, Tanaka-san," he drawled with a hint of laughter in his voice. He took one end of the crate without hesitation and his skinny arms trembled under it.

Mariner's Haven was a melting pot indeed; Marines stood shoulder to shoulder with merchants while pirates skulked in every dark corner. Young Borsalino watched it all with wide eyes, fascinated by the kaleidoscope of sailors that swept through the port like waves.

"Do you see that ship over there, kid?" a gruff voice asked. Borsalino turned to see Captain Garp, a Marine known for his strength and unpredictability. "That's a pirate vessel. Someday, you might have to face scum like that."

Borsalino cocked his head, the ever-present smile on his face never wavering. "But, Captain-san, don't they just want adventure like everyone else?"

As the sun began to set behind him and cast long shadows across the docks, Borsalino found himself wandering towards the seedier part of town. The air here was thick with smoke and secrets, and even the boy's carefree attitude couldn't fully release it.

"Well well well," slithered a voice from a dark alleyway. A man with a scar across his face stepped out into view, malice gleaming in his eyes. "If it ain't Boromante's boy?"

Borsalino didn't drop his smile, but something in his eyes went hard. "Oh? You know my father?" he asked lightly.

The man laughed; it was like gravel in a meat grinder. "Know him? Kid, everybody knows marine captain Boromante! And everybody knows about his biggest embarrassment-a son who can't tie his own shoelaces without taking a nap first!"

This had been among one of many things the college student had soon learned after becoming Kizaru. Kizaru was mentally tired all the time. It was simply a genetic condition of his body.

For an instant silence hung like a guillotine blade. Then something extraordinary happened. Borsalino started to glow. At first faintly. But then brighter. And brighter.

"Oi oi," he said flatly."That's not very nice is it?"

The man stared at him for only a moment then began scrambling away. "What... what are you!?"

Borsalino's smile grew, his teeth shimmering in the odd light coming off of him. "Me? Just a kid who likes to help out, ya know?"

And with that the man was gone. Fled into the night. Leaving young Borsalino there. A beacon of light against the encroaching dark.

At that moment it became clear. The laid-back boy from Mariner's Haven was on a path to something much greater than anyone could have ever guessed.

Flashback

Not long after sunrise little Borsalino Boromante found himself perched atop a stack of weathered crates near the docks. His eyes—hidden behind sunglasses several sizes too large for his face—lazily skimmed over the hustle and bustle of port. His trademark yellow-striped hat cast shadow across his face making him appear even more nonchalant.

"Oi, Borsalino!" called a gruff voice. "What're you doing up there, son?"

The boy's head lolled to the side; grin split wider when he saw who it was. Captain Boromante, his father.

"Just watching the world go by pop," he drawled.

Suddenly a commotion erupted at the far end of docks. A ship had dropped anchor. Its black flag gave away what kind it was. Rough looking men began disembarking. Eyes darting furtively.

"Pirates," Captain Boromante said, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword. He turned to his son with a grave expression. "Borsalino, do you know why we Marines exist?"

The boy cocked his head, his smile never faltering. "To catch the bad guys, right Pop?"

His father laughed dryly. "It's not that simple, son. We exist to maintain order, to protect the innocent. But sometimes... sometimes the difference between what is 'right' and what is 'wrong' isn't always as clear as we'd like it to be."

As if on cue, a squad of Marines appeared around them-–-surrounding the pirate crew. Borsalino watched lazily as his father shouted commands and pirates were put into handcuffs with little resistance offered by them.

"You know, Borsalino," Captain Boromante said softly, "being a Marine isn't just about physical strength. It's about justice; it's about making the tough calls."

The child nodded, never tearing his eyes from the sight before him. "Ah, I see," he whispered vaguely. Whether or not he truly did understand remained to be seen.

As night fell, the docks grew still save for the gentle lapping of waves against wood. Driven by a curiosity that belied his laid-back demeanor, Borsalino found himself on board the impounded pirate ship.

The vessel groaned ominously as he descended below deck with bare feet padding silently across worn planks. In the captain's quarters—lit only by a lone flickering candle—something caught his eye.

There sat on a velvet cushion a fruit unlike any other he had ever seen. Its surface was yellow and white and swirled together in patterns almost hypnotic in their beauty.

"Ah!" Borsalino breathed out as his hand reached for it without thinking. "What're you?"

In response, the fruit seemed to glow from within; light pulsed quietly beneath its skin. Without another thought, Borsalino raised it to his lips and took a bite.

Its flavor was indescribable: sweet honey mixed with sour lemon mixed with shit. As he swallowed warmth spread throughout his body starting at his core and radiating outward.

All of a sudden, Borsalino's body began emitting light—first dimly then increasingly brighter hues—until finally nothing remained but pure radiant energy where once stood him.

"Well now," he chuckled curiously behind an always-present grin (one that had changed slightly). "Wouldn't you look at this?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Finally the manchild had found the Devil Fruit which he had been looking for. He wondered if he should have gone to The Store System and bought a way to find this Devil Fruit but it seemed he was fine.

End Flashback

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the secluded cove where young Borsalino Boromante stood. His oversized sunglasses reflected the dying light as he raised his hands, concentrating.

"Ah, let's see what you got today, huh?" he drawled lazily with an uncharacteristic determination in his voice.

Then light burst forth from his fingertips, twirling and dancing through the air before him. Rocks around him glowed as if absorbing it.

From behind a cluster of weathered boulders, Solara watched with wide eyes full of fascination. Her heart raced at the sight of her childhood friend manipulating light like putty between fingers.

"Borsalino," she whispered so as not to break his concentration. "You really have become something else."

As the display grew more intense, Borsalino's grin flickered for a moment. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he struggled to rein in overflowing power.

"Easy now," he muttered to himself. "Don't wanna accidentally turn an island into a lighthouse or somethin', y'know?"

Then an errant beam shot out from his hand and seared through a tree nearby. The smell of burnt wood wafted through the air.

"Oh," Borsalino drawled with a returning grin despite the near-miss incident. "That ain't good."

Unable to contain her awe any longer, Solara stepped out from behind her hiding place. "Borsalino! That was amazing!"

The boy turned toward her voice breaking concentration; light faded leaving only natural glow emitted by setting sun.

"Hey Solara!" he said, a bit of surprise—and something else? regret?—in his voice. "You shouldn't be here, you know? It's not safe."

Solara's face fell, her excitement snuffed out like a candle in the wind. "We used to play together all the time," she said, barely above a whisper. "And now you're always training. Don't you miss it?"

Borsalino's grin wavered; for a moment sadness flitted across his face. "Things are different now, Solara-chan," he said seriously, uncharacteristically serious. "I've got a responsibility, ne? Can't just go playing around anymore."

As they made their way back toward town the air was thick with quiet conversations and sidelong glances; news of Borsalino's powers had spread through Mariner's Haven like wildfire (turning the once-well known boy into the talk of the town).

"There he is," muttered a gruff fisherman as they passed. "The light boy."

"I heard he can move faster than the eye can see," added another voice; awe and fear mixed in equal measure coloring those words.

Borsalino seemed oblivious to this attention, his lazy gait unchanged—but Solara could see the tension in his shoulders, could see how his eyes darted about beneath those oversized sunglasses.

At the edge of town they encountered Captain Boromante: there were worry lines etched into that face which hadn't been there one week prior.

"Borsalino," called Captain Boromante with relief and exasperation both in his voice: "Where have you been? We need to continue your training!"

The boy grinned wider. "Ooh Pop!" he drawled lazily: "I was just showing Solara-chan my new tricks ya know?"

Captain Boromante's face softened as he looked at Solara, then hardened again as he turned back to his son. "You know the dangers, Borsalino. Your powers aren't a toy—they're a responsibility. And I've got to balance my duties as a Marine Captain with helping you control this... gift."

And so it was that night fell over Mariner's Haven—the same night which found young Borsalino lying on his bed staring at the ceiling; light filled from within.

"Oh," he murmured, barely audible: "what a bother ne?"

But even as he said it (even) there played across his lips a small smile—for Borsalino Boromante, a laid-back boy who had seemingly stumbled upon unusual power(s), life had grown infinitely more complicated… and (infinitely) more interesting too.

And so (Then) he drifted off to sleep with consciousness receding like light itself, wondering what could possibly come next.

As dawn's first pale touch snaked in through windowpanes and curtain-crack alike, Borsalino Boromante stirred beneath sheets; those ever-present sunglasses fluttered open behind which eyes of green-gold glinted uneasily.

A moment later a strange ethereal interface flickered into life before him: invisible to all but himself.

It was time.

Behind it lay The Store System; buying his first Power for Units required by said-store's ruleset; every day is random drop of units ranging from insane numbers to nothing & it's been 8 years since becoming Kizaru.

"Store System" was faintly glowing in the air. A list of options appeared below the label. Borsalino's fingers hovered over them, still emitting a dim light.

One option stood out: "Lex Luthor [Prime-Earth] Template - Experience and Abilities."

"Interesting, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, grinning even wider than before. He chose it lazily, waving his hand but being careful not to accidentally select the "memories" choice; he didn't want to become someone else.

A wave of intellect rushed into his brain—-intricate scientific theories tangled up with strategic thinking patterns around an otherwise laid-back attitude. Blinking rapidly to try and adjust to this new knowledge-overload, Borsalino hardly had time to think about how strange it all felt.

The sun was high in the sky when Borsalino reached the training grounds. His father and Solara were already waiting for him. Captain Boromante's face was etched with worry, while Solara's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"You're late, son," Captain Boromante growled, hand resting on his sword's hilt. "We've got work to do."

Borsalino didn't miss a beat. "Eh, sorry Pop. Got a little… sidetracked this morning, ya know?"

Solara perched on a nearby rock and leaned forward eagerly. "Show us what you can do, Borsalino!" she called out, excitement lacing her voice-—along with something else; maybe a touch of longing for the carefree days they had once shared.

Borsalino raised his hands and let light begin to dance between his fingers. But this time was different. The wild unpredictability of before was gone, replaced by a controlled almost surgical precision.

"Eh, let's try somethin' new, ne?" he drawled through an undertone of newfound confidence.

Suddenly beams of light shot out from his fingertips leaving trails that wove intricate patterns in the air around them. The light bent and refracted off itself creating fully 3D structures that shimmered and pulsed with energy.

Captain Boromante's jaw dropped. "Borsalino," he breathed out—-"how... how are you doing this?"

The boy's grin widened even more. "Just a lil' trick I picked up pop—nothin' ta worry about ya know?"

As Borsalino continued to put on display after display Solara watched in awe but also growing unease. He was still her friend right? The boy before her still wore that lazy grin and drawled his words like always but there was something else now: a sharpness in his eyes that had never been there before.

"Borsalino," she called out over the hum of light energy, barely audible-—"are you still... you?"

The boy paused and the light around them dimmed slightly. For a moment something like confusion or concern flickered across his face, but then the grin was back as bright as ever.

"Eh, Solara-chan," he drawled—"of course it's still me. Just... a lil' smarter now ya know?"

As the training session wound down Captain Boromante clasped a hand on Borsalino's shoulder; pride and worry fighting for dominance in his eyes. "You've made incredible progress, Borsalino," he said—"but remember: with great power comes-"

"Great responsibility," Borsalino finished with an uncharacteristic edge of sarcasm. "Eh I know pop, I know."

As they made their way back to town—Solara hanging back just slightly—Borsalino's mind raced with new possibilities. The Store System had opened up an entirely new world for him but at what cost?

Young Borsalino Boromante's eyes glowed with unnerving light as newfound knowledge and power swirled within him like a storm barely contained.

The laid-back boy from the docks was changing; evolving into something… more. And so night fell, leaving hanging in the air, unspoken but palpable: What would he become?

In the days following young Borsalino Boromante's room became a shrine to his newfound genius. Papers covered every surface; filled with intricate diagrams and complex calculations. The soft glow of his light powers illuminated space casting eerie shadows as he worked tirelessly through the night

"Ah, yes! This has a fair chance of success!" He said with a sharp-edged smile. His fingers left trails of light as they moved across a map of the Grand Line. "If we put our troops here and here… the pirates'll never know what hit 'em."

Captain Boromante positioned himself at the entrance, his face showing signs of worry as he observed his son. "Borsalino," he whispered tenderly. "It's late. You should go to sleep."

The kid flipped around; the oversized sunglasses on his head reflected the light from the lamp post. "Sleep, Pop? Oh, no time for that. Not now that we're this close to fixing the pirate problem for good."

His father furrowed his eyebrows. "Son, it's not that simple. The world isn't black and white. Not all pirates are–"

"Bad?" Borsalino cut him off with an uncharacteristically sharp tone to his voice. "Maybe not, Pop. But they're still a threat to justice, ne? And justice… Well, justice is absolute."

As dawn came over Mariner's Haven, Solara headed towards Borsalino's house with hope in her chest-—it had been days since she'd seen her friend anywhere but at some grueling training.

She found him in his room among plans and calculations like always––celestial bodies were drawn out across tables while mathematical equations were scribbled across others. "Borsalino?" she called tentatively.

He looked up from underneath a perpetually present smile upon noticing her figure in the doorway; it softened slightly at her sight. "Oh, Solara-chan…" he drawled lazily. "What'cha doing here so early?"

Her gaze shifted rapidly throughout the room-–feverish work everywhere she looked. "I... I wanted to see if we could play today," she began hesitantly. "Like we used to?"

For a moment there was something else behind Borsalino's eyes––a glimpse into what this all really meant: freedom. But then he glanced back down at everything before him again; conflicted. "Ya know what, Solara-chan? That sounds like a great idea. These plans… they'll still be here later, ne?"

Joy lit up Solara's face. "Really? You mean it?"

"Of course," he said with a touch more of his old laid-back charm than before. "Can't be all work and no play, ya know? That's no way to live."

And so they ran through the streets of Mariner's Haven, playing tag and hide-and-seek, until Borsalino felt lighter than air. His intelligence hummed just beneath his skin––right there where anyone who looked close enough could see it––but for now it was just him and Solara being kids again.

"You can't catch me!" she called out into the wind as they raced down another street.

"Ohh, is that a challenge?" His grin was wider than it had been in days. He could've easily caught her with his light speed; but what fun would that have been?

As the sun began setting and casting long shadows across town, Borsalino and Solara collapsed on the grassy hillside; breathless from their play.

"I've missed this," she said softly; turning her head to look at him.

Borsalino's eyes softened. "Me too, Solara-chan. Me too."

But even while he was laying there, simply enjoying friendship in its purest form—-part of Borsalino's mind never stopped working. Store System had given him something... a gift or maybe a curse that he couldn't turn off completely. Planning. Strategizing.

Night fell over Mariner's Haven as young Borsalino found himself between two worlds: The carefree manchild he had always been versus the brilliant strategist he was quickly becoming. Laughter echoed in his ears from that day while plans and calculations called to him within his room like sirens.

Borsalino was in his room, which was dark but for the dim light that shone from his hands. He looked into a mirror and saw himself smiling like always, but there was something different about those eyes behind the glasses this time: they sparkled with purpose.

"Man, this is so annoying," he muttered, then grinned wider. "But maybe... just maybe it could be... fun?"

Author's Notes: If you guys really like this story and want to see more of this quickly, I will be releasing multiple chapters everyday on my p- at - re- on. pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?

Remove the spaces obviously and dashes. If not go to the site and type in Bosillic. Until we meet again.